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Salvation Lost : Sins of Salvation -> The Post Office -> Dropped Calls
Post Info TOPIC: Dropped Calls
Ashes Of Faith


Lukois' Lucifer

Posts: 917
Date: May 20, 2008
Dropped Calls
Permalink Closed

Though it was two o’clock in the morning that meant nothing to him, Ash only needed about four hours of sleep a night even if he rarely got that. Sitting at the kitchen table the house around him was still with everyone tucked in for the night. Times like this were peaceful and gave him a chance to concentrate on the work that he almost always had to take home with him. A coffee mug sat beside his papers with a Turkish French pressed coffee in it that was thick as mud with a flavor that could knock you over. Which was exactly how he liked it after all if you were going to drink coffee then it might as well put hair on your chest. Unlike other Brits he had never been a tea drinker. To the other side of his papers rested a slim black cell phone, and almost exactly after the clock struck two it began to vibrate loudly against the table.

 

He didn’t answer right away, just watched the phone with those vibrant eyes of his. It rang a second time and a strange sensation ran through his body. Something unknown and mysterious, if lycans could have a sixth sense then that was what he would call it. Finally after two rings he picked up the phone and saw the name on the small display screen. Detective Bradshaw. That was all that it said, and he felt surprise wash over him. How long had it been since he had heard from her? Salem seemed a long way in the past, and Mary Jane had been gone so very long. Flipping open the phone he put it to his ear.

 

“Redfern.”

 

Couldn’t help it, it was habit. She would expect nothing else from him. Almost immediately he heard a click as the phone on her end was hung up. Pulling the phone away from his ear he looked at the screen as if for an explanation. His power bar was full, so was his connection. It wasn’t his phone. Maybe she had dialed the wrong number. That didn’t feel like what it was, but he didn’t want to entertain the other explanations. The last time he had gotten a late night call from one of the women from his past he’d ended up on a plane to Spain to hunt down child murdering vampires. That had ended in torture, death, and a psychotic vampire following him back to the pack. He was hoping that history was not about to repeat itself. Ash could have called back, but he didn’t. It ate at him until he went to bed, but he couldn’t do it. If it was that kind of call he couldn’t put his pack in danger again, even if it killed him not to pick up the phone and return the call.

 

 

At six thirty am he could be found in the kitchen once again, all ready for a day of work. Having already jogged, stretched, and done morning meditation he was showered and dressed in one of his many designer suits. Leaning against the counter he was talking on his cell phone to Detective Rodgers about some things they had on the agenda for the day including a trip to one of the nearby islands to check on a body found mauled on one of the trails. Always fun to determine lycan work from regular old fashioned beasties.

 

Breaking into the call was the beep of call waiting. Normally it was something he would have ignored during a business call, but something made him look. How could he not look? Just as he had secretly expected Janes number was flashing on the screen. Excusing himself he switched over to pick up the call. Once again as soon as he answered he heard the click of the other line disconnecting. Swapping back over to Det. Rodgers he sighed heavily. Apparently this was not something he could ignore.

 

“Bret can you go to Oahu without me? I need to see to some things on the home front. I’ll be at the station later today.”

 

They discussed some further logistics and Ash gave him the instructions for the meeting on Oahu. Hanging up from one call he dialed up Janes contact sheet on his address book and clicked on her name. The phone rang several times with no answer, a fact which irritated him in that moment. What in bloody hell was she doing calling him and hanging up then not answering her phone? It made no sense. Hanging up he dialed back another time with the intention this round of leaving a message.

 

“Bradshaw. Where are you?”

 

 



__________________

Mary Jane


Stripped T-R-O-U-B-L-E

Posts: 75
Date: May 21, 2008
Permalink Closed

Jane stared at her cell phone. How stupid could she have been? She should have blocked her number. But she didn't. Secretly, secretly Jane wished for him to come. Secretly she wanted him to rescue her. Tears were dried on her face. They left fresh sticky salty tracks on her face. Wrapped in the thick comforter of her hotel bed. She was cold. The kind of cold no amount of hot water, harsh dark coffee or clothes could make go away. Here, in Hawaii Jane was freezing. Staring out of her fourth floor window hotel room. The sun was bright, the world looked so happy. Her cell stopped ringing.


Looking away, she knew who it was. Looking back to the window. Jane  she was wishing, just wishing he did. That he'd come and he'd save her, cause damn Jane knew she needed the savin'. She was more stubborn than a mule. She would never admit it, cause she was too proud to admit it. But she needed him. She knew without having to look at the caller ID. It was Ash. She should have blocked her number.


The coffee was burning. Lips pressed to the rim of the mug. It burned like molden fire down her throat. Didn't make the cold go away. Dreams always left Jane feeling this way. Scott was in her dream. She watched him smile on their wedding day. It was more a memory than a dream.


Scott's papers were all in order. She had borrowed the fax from the main office, and sent them to the cremators. She was picking a pretty little wooden box. Seemed sort of silly to Jane since she was going to be letting his ashes go into the wind. Let him fly like superman like he always wanted to.


Her forehead pressed to the cool glass of the window. Eyes closing. She was tired now. More so inside than out. Jane only got five if less hours of sleep a day. Always on call. Always ready. Right now, she was ready to collapse.

______________________________________________________________

Hours had passed. From the hotel room, taking the sedan from the rental place to the Crematorium. Jane was dressed in a suit. She opt for the suit instead of the black dress. The heels made little circles as she moved over the carpet. She was walking behind the man who was showing Jane the collections of wooden boxes to hold the ashes of her loved one. Scott had once been her husband. She did love him once. What she mourned about now was not Scott. It was the memories she had made with him. Made and now she was the only one that had them. Made her feel lonely. She was the only one that would remember what he smelled like. What his voice sounded like, what his eyes looked like.


The man cleared his throat, to get Jane's attention.


"Just ah plain one, nothin' fancy. He ain't gonna be in there ta long anyway."


That Oklahoma accent would reach the man's ears. Did he mind? Jane didn't damn well care. She guessed he was already used to women spacing out, and being rude after someone died. So he was nicer. Trying harder to please her. That actually made her want to be nice. Eyes hidden behind her sunglasses would shift away.


"Cheap darlin'. Hell Ah could just drive up ta wally world and get one of them fishin' tackles put his ashes in it. Ain't gonna be hard. Tossin' Scott's ashes ova some cliff any how."


She told him seriously. The man grew pale. His dark features went nearly vampire white. Jane wanted to laugh. She really did. She was treating Scott Masters, Mr. Hotel/Casino owner like some hill-billy white trash. Lips twisted in a smile, as she shook her head.


"Ain't only but jokin'. "


Jane wasn't joking. She meant it. The man looked better, at least the color came back to his face. She looked over the book he had been showing her. She flipped some pages, one back and forth as if she was really interested in what style it was what shape, what wood it was made out of, or even the cut. She really just wanted to get an old cookie tin and dump those burned up remains and just let him go. Finally Jane tapped to a brown wooden box, and she smiled at the man.


"This one. Ah think Scotty woulda liked it."


The lies tumbled from her lips. She knew Scott wouldn't have cared either. The man smiled back, brushed his hand on her shoulder and nodded as if she gave him the perfect answer. She hated this.


Jane sat and waited. Her thumbnail between her fingers. The paint never chipped it was almost tattooed on, if that was possible. Wasn't of course. Lashes hovered her eyes. She dropped her hand. The people mauled around, weeping. Jane didn't cry in public. Gathering her purse, a real honest to god purse, and walked to the doors on the cremators. Just walking till she could reach the humid air outside.


That's when she heard it. Her cell phone beeping letting her know she had a missed call and a voicemail. Fear, doubt, and heat ran through her limbs. Jane removed the black slim device. Looking at the number, the name, and when she hit the dial to get her voicemail. His crisp British accent nearly made her fall. The wall supported Jane. The tears were in her voice when she called back.


"Ah'ma at the Puluka Crematorium, in Hawaii... Rex..."


After that, it was the click.



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